It was me
by Leslie Emm
Summary: 'You don't remember me, why should you? But I drove the car, the one that took Flack and Angell to the hospital. Here's my story'. This wouldn't leave me alone. Please R&R.
1. Chapter 1

**It was me.**

Hi, I'm guessing you don't remember me, why would you? I was a small part in that day, small but I was there and I saw it, and it affected me too.

The call came through as any other in this crazy ass city, a truck had smashed into a cafe, shots fired. We rolled.

When we arrived it was carnage, bodies everywhere. Word was that it was a break out. I went in, my partner too and the other guys, and we stared at her, Detective Angell, on the floor bleeding. You get the kick in the gut every time, when you see one of your own down, you want to save them, to kick the ass of the guy that put them there.

She was hot, Angell. She was also a damn good cop. I'd been with her a few times and trust me, you didn't want to be on the receiving end of her, she had bigger balls than most guys I know. Except of course Flack. The guy has a sensor for scumbags, he can sniff one out at 30 paces. Old man was the same, I worked with him too as a rookie before he retired.

He arrived seconds after us, I dunno how he knew, but he did, and suddenly the squad room gossip was confirmed in the worst way possible, I saw the guys face when he picked her up off the floor, he loved her. I saw her face too, and in that second it broke my heart, she looked at him as if she wasn't dying, as if he was the best thing she'd seen all day. Then her look changed, sorrow and regret were in her eyes, she knew this would be the last time she saw him, and she just looked, as if she knew she'd have to take this moment with her for eternity.

As he threw her into my car, ordered me to drive them to the hospital I knew, I knew she was going to die on my back seat. Maybe even would have if it hadn't been him with her, I could see her fighting, for him, she could see the heartbreak in his eyes, as he begged her silently not to go like this. I could hear him telling her she was going to be OK. The last person I expected to hear call anyone baby was Flack, but there he was. My heart twisted for the guy.

As he laid her on the gurney at the hospital, and they wheeled her in, I knew it would be the last I saw of her, I followed behind, my car abandoned, back seat full of her blood. I didn't want to face that yet. I saw the last look between them, it spoke louder than any words could have. Hers said goodbye, his said No.

I sat around, keeping my distance, but staying anyway. I didn't want to leave Flack, alone. When they told him she was gone, I'm not sure what affected me most, the thought that another scumbag had killed a cop, or Flack's face, I thought he was gonna join her right there.

I thought about approaching, offering support, and was saved that. Messer arrived, the CSI guy, the funny one, only he wasn't laughing now. Flack told him, tears in his eyes. Messer punched the wall, they were close these guys, they had a bond like only cops can get.

I crept back to my car, my heart in my size 10 boots. I drove slowly back to the precinct, I couldn't look in the back just yet. I went for a smoke, a few coffee's that needed a whole lot more than cream and sugar in.

I leaned in to the back seat. Angell's blood taunted me. I could see her smile as she flirted lightly with guys like me, hell we knew we didn't stand a chance, we'd all seen her and Flack together. Even if there was nothing going on, she obviously had feelings for him. But she made you feel good, part of a team, not just a pawn she controlled to get her job done. Flack was like that, respected the uniforms, I wondered how the guy was doing.

I searched the back seat with my gloves, red staining the white. I couldn't do this, it was too much. My fingers touched something that had fallen from the seat, I picked it up, turning it in my hands. It was blood soaked, as everything else that day seemed to be. I should turn it in to my boss, or the chief, they'd want it. But there was one guy I knew needed it.

I cleaned it up, signing the car off active duty and in to be cleaned, I couldn't do it. I had been given the rest of the shift, my boss could see that I wasn't right, he was a good guy like that.

I looked at what I had retrieved from the car, now clean, shiny. I had a fair idea of where I could find Flack, it was only an hour or so since I'd left him in the hospital, but her parents were due there, and Flack wanted to be the one who told them. As much as it broke his heart and ate him up, he knew there were others who would take this worse. I respect and admire men like that.

He sat staring into space, as I approached him. Messer was talking on the phone.

"Flack" I offered him the object, I knew no words could do anything here, nothing was gonna make this better. He took it, turning it over in his hands. He gave me a sad smile.

"Thanks" he said, before staring into space again. I saw him running his thumb over the numbers of it, 9521 "I'll give it to her Dad, it was his before he retired"

I wanted to give him something else, something he could hold onto, but then maybe he didn't want that, maybe he had enough in his head to hold on to.

I left then, went home, hugged my wife, played with my kids and looked out my dress blues. I'd be needing them for the funeral of the fallen colleague I hadn't been able to help save today.


	2. Chapter 2

**It was me II**

A/N – Ok I've heard about plot bunnies, but never met them until now. Geez they bite. I'm extending this one shot and taking a couple of liberties with it too, but I think it pays off.

**Blood and tea towels.**

To whom it may concern,

I sat just drinking my coffee, like everyone else. Breakfast as usual was beautiful and in my 71 years, I don't think I'd found a chef who rivalled this one. That's why I came here everyday for breakfast. That and I'm too lazy to cook. Most mornings were hardly memorable, I'd worked my way through the menu, twice, and was on my third shot. But this morning, was one that I will never forget, I fear it will be with me the day I die, which is not long now. But less for what happened and more for the promise I have never kept, and now with the passage of time, I cannot keep it.

We all dived for cover when that truck smashed into the front of the café, instinct. I was forcibly knocked from my chair anyway, more luck than judgement. The cup I had been drinking from was now embedded in parts of me and sugar, coffee, glass and an assortment of debris littered the floor. I'd love to say I saw what happened, but I didn't. When the shooting started, I put my head between my legs and kissed my ass goodbye, to quote a phrase that my failing memory can't recall the origin of.

When silence reined again, I heard moans and hisses of fear and pain, I heard sirens and I inspected the damage to my not so young body. I was bleeding, nothing life threatening, but I have always been a bit over dramatic. The fact I could stand and walk escaped me as I headed over towards the counter for something to stem the blood. She was there, eyes wide, all that beautiful hair in disarray around her. I saw her gun and shield, she was a cop. Not one of my favourite people then. But something about this woman's eyes stopped me.

"Honey?" I knelt awkwardly next to her, smoothing that hair from her face. She gasped for breath and I saw why, she was bleeding heavily from her chest or abdomen. I'm not medically minded and there was a lot of blood, but those eyes held mine.

"What's your name honey?" I asked as she gasped at me, her mouth trying to form the word. I thought she said Dana or something.

"Dana?" I asked, but she shook her head, I will admit to thinking right there that the look of irritation and annoyance was one you wouldn't want to receive when this woman _hadn't_ taken a major injury.

"Don" she managed to choke out between shorter breaths, this beautiful woman was called Don? Even at my age, with my past, that was odd. In my world, a woman, looking like that, with a name like that meant _one _thing, and that was some damn fine surgery!

"Don?" I asked confused.

The look again, impatience and fury lined this one though, I glanced nervously at her gun, wondering if she may have the strength to shoot me just for being dumb.

Then it connected, it made sense, whoever _she_ was, she loved this Don, Husband, lover, brother, whoever he was, she wanted him, when she thought death was galloping up to her.

Her eyes pleaded with me, she gripped at my hand and I understood.

"I'll tell him" I promised "I'll find him and tell him" she relaxed a little, but not much and I was glad to see she wasn't giving up the fight just yet "But you can tell him yourself" I encouraged "You can tell him"

I casted around for something to soak up her blood, hopefully buy her enough time to see this guy again, the place was chaos but I knew that there would be clean towels behind the counter. I left her, for a second to get some.

On turning I saw him, I can only assume he was 'Don'. A tall guy, in suit, whom I would have admired in other circumstances. He was frantic, but I did learn her name as he screamed 'Jess' over and again until he found her. He scooped her up, carrying her out to a police car, shouting orders one second, cooing softly to her the next. Despite all the bravado I could see he was terrified, absolutely terrified.

The towels were suddenly useless for her, she was gone. I wondered, as I tended my own wounds, how he knew. I believe in all sorts of what most people call, 'freaky shit', and in my romantic mind, I wonder if some 6th sense brought him here, some knowledge he didn't know he possessed.

I learned, in the paper the next day that she had indeed been a police officer, Jessica Angell, and he, Donald Flack Jnr, her partner. I also learned she hadn't made it, and as usual there was a lot of gumph about New Yorks finest. I did however think that this one _was_ a waste, as I have said I am a romantic, and hugely think that if two young people were ever in love, it was them two. They would have had beautiful children, dark and mysterious I feel. But that wasn't to be now.

I never did tell him, I couldn't summon up the courage to find this man and face his grief. I am an old man, and as I lay here waiting for my own moment of reckoning, selfishly, I need to unburden myself. I don't expect anyone to tell him, I think that he will already know, but I made a promise to a dying woman, and I have reneged on it, I need to die with a clear conscience. Who knows, maybe she'll be waiting for me on the other side to give me a hard time over it, I'll cross that bridge when and if it happens.


	3. Chapter 3

**It was me III**

A/N – More liberties taken here. I cannot remember if Angell died in the ER or Surgery, but for the purposes of this, it was in surgery. Apologies if that's wrong.

**Not enough.**

I sighed as the red phone went, 16 hours straight and another one was coming. I didn't know how many lives you were required to save per day as an intern, but I felt I'd reached my quota today, and I still had 10 hours left.

"Yup" I said into the reciever.

"We got a gunshot on the way" the voice said "Lost a lot of blood, arrested once"

"Uh huh" I droned, probably another drive by that we'd save in time for the cops to handcuff, seemed stupid.

"She's NYPD" the voice said before the line went dead. Even I as tired as I was sprung into action, it was the unspoken rule of the OR, nurses, Drs, paramedics, cops, military personnel _did_ get the five star treatment and then some. Not fair but it's the way it works, they're your own.

We scrubbed up and were ready when she was wheeled in. She was in a bad way and we started immediately. Her chest looked like a patchwork quilt and to be honest, I don't think even the surgeon knew where to start. I handed him things time and again, swabbing yet more blood away. Everyone could see that she had so many holes in so many places that we were fighting a losing battle, but on we fought. I squeezed the blood and fluid bags into her, she didn't have a blood pressure to speak of, probably due to the fact she didn't have any blood left. As quick as I pushed it in, it came back out. Each time a hole was fixed, somewhere else sprung a leak. And then the erratic motion of her heart stopped. It is an amazing thing to watch someone's heart beat in their chest, and to watch it stop is a profound moment.

The surgeon started open cardiac massage, literally squeezing her heart with his hand, but there was no blood to pump, the more he squeezed the more oozed out from her wounds. It was over, 10 minutes we tried to revive her, and each time we checked, nothing.

He called it, ripping his mask and hat off and practically taking the door from it's hinges as he left. As a higher intern, cleaning up wasn't my concern any more, I would get the job of telling the husband, or father, or whichever family member waited biting their nails for news. I wished that I was in there cleaning up every time, it was part of the job I will never get used to.

But the surgeon saved me that, he was already facing someone who looked like their world had fallen apart, so I left to get cleaned up before the next one came up and I needed to try and save another life. You can't hold on to them, you can't regret it, because it will affect you next time, and that person may have a fighting chance.


	4. Chapter 4

**It was me IV**

**Too Late**

I heard the commotion from next door and looked up, the Angells were a good family, but with 5 boys and a girl they'd been noisy. As each one had moved on, family occasions were rare but they were still noisy.

Something about Cliff's face clued me in I suppose. He had that cop look, the one where they dive into a car and have it on the street before their legs are in.

Hours later they returned and there was something real wrong, they were all there, with the exception of Jessica, she must be on duty somewhere over the city.

He saw me, sitting on the porch and his face was just pain, sheer pain. The eldest son wrapped an arm around him, for the moment he took the lead, his father was unable to. I stood, concerned and if I'm honest down right nosy.

"It's Jess" the son told me "She has been killed in the line of duty"

I reeled slightly, but tried not to show it. Cliff was holding it together, so could I "We got there too late" he whispered.

"Geez, guys" I managed "I'm so sorry" it seemed totally inadequate.

"Thanks" he managed before steering the devastated family into the house. I sat back down, thinking about it all.

I stared over my front garden, thinking about the family next door. The small dark whirlwind who couldn't keep still, who was tormented by older brothers. The teenager whom I'd heard have screaming rows with everyone in the house at some point. The young woman coming home from the academy, proud to follow in her fathers footsteps. The confident woman bringing boyfriends home, only the bravest, to meet the firing squad. And now she'd be home only once more, to say good bye.

It was a sad and terrible day, and as I headed inside to tell my parents I wondered how they'd take it. I am 25 and had lived next door to them all my life, we weren't particularly close, but we were good neighbours to each other. I knew my mother would be devastated, she'd known Jess longer than I had, since the day she was brought home from the hospital. I felt a little piece of my childhood slip away, another reminder that we all get older, we all move on and sometimes that's a tragedy.


	5. Chapter 5

**It was me V**

**It really _was_ me.**

My boyfriend really was a piece of work. Arrogant, self absorbed at times and a self righteous son of a bitch. He was also the best man ever to grace my sheets, and he was damned hot into the bargain. Another thing was he'd never let me down, when it counted most, he was there behind me. Be that with a gun as my partner, or a hug as my lover. Oh sure he'd done some dumb things, he'd hurt me and he _hated_ saying sorry, but when it mattered, he was there. I admired him, trusted him and yeah, I did love him, properly too.

He had this way of unbalancing me, of throwing me off course, and then that damn sarcasm would chide me for it.

"Sexiest thing I ever heard" was a prime example, he _knew_ it would throw me off, though the "Ooh La La" was possibly the worst piece of French I have ever heard spoken.

I'd heard him say my name, with emotion a few times too. Oh that was fun, knowing I could reduce the great Flack, coolness itself, to a wreck with a few moves. But this time, the way he said it, well once again it threw me.

A good friend of mine once told me that I wouldn't be on my death bed wishing I'd slapped the cuffs on a few more criminals, that career wasn't everything. And be damned the woman was right. I didn't expect my death bed to be quite so soon, or the floor of a café, but here it was.

And I was here, making God a bargain that I'd repent any sin, spend eternity in hell if I could see him one last time. It worked, he was there, telling me it was all gonna be OK. We both knew he was lying, outside police work, the guy can't lie for shit.

I've seen him scared, angry, furious. I've seen him cocky (who hasn't huh?) and unsure of himself – like the day I called him on giving me a really bad line, but damn me didn't it just work! There's just something about him, and I guess that's what falling in love is all about, you can't put your finger on it exactly, it just is.

But today there was no trying to hide himself behind a smart flick of the eyebrows or a snarky comment. He was there, again, when I needed him most. I couldn't speak, the bullet had robbed me of the chance to tell him how I felt, in my minds eye I could see the future, me telling him how he'd got under my skin, but that wasn't gonna happen. I pushed my luck with the guy upstairs as he held me in that patrol car, it'd worked once. I promised that if I lived, I was marrying this guy. Shit to all his commitment phobia, I'd handcuff him to the altar if I needed to.

Then there was the other man in my life, the only man that Don could never hope to eclipse, my Dad. He'd been my father, my role model, my tormentor through some rocky teenage years, my best friend and my mentor. How would he cope? I was an out and out Daddy's girl, neither of us fought to hide it. I wanted to see him too, explain how I was the person I am today because of him, because he's such a great guy. Sure he's not perfect, but he's as close as you get, trust me.

The big guy upstairs his put foot down, I had asked for too much I guess and as they say, when your numbers up, it's up. I seriously considered as they took me to surgery that I wasn't coming back, and I kinda made my peace with it. You know that you may end up here any day when you take that oath at the academy. I was just glad that I'd had what I did, great family, the love of a good man. I'd hoped for more, but somewhere there was gratitude that at least I hadn't left Flack with a houseful of kids to bring up alone, small mercies huh?

So this was it, someday I hope that I'll understand, because as much as I may _have_ to accept what's happening, I don't have to like it.


End file.
